


Empty

by ObsidianJade



Category: Bon Jovi
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianJade/pseuds/ObsidianJade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alone in his New York apartment, Jon can't sleep as a storm rolls through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Empty

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this at two in the morning, during a bout of insomnia and a thunderstorm. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Jon Bon Jovi, et. al., are property of themselves. No malice is intended or implied through the writing of this fiction and no profit is made.

EMPTY

The storms break around one in the morning, while I’m lying in bed trying to remember how to sleep. 

The building is new, or newer, anyway, and has about a hundred redundancies, buried lines and generators and it’s worth absolutely shit when the lighting hits the grid just right. 

There’s a snap- _bang_ and the ghost-green numbers of my bedside clock blink out. The city light streaming through my rain-streaked windows vanishes simultaneously, plunging the room into blackness for a split second, until the next bolt of lightning tears through the night.

I shut my eyes again, roll away from the window and the lightshow outside. There’s something sharp and uncomfortable on the mattress under my shoulder, a binder clip or a guitar pick or something, but I ignore it. A little pain, that’s never stopped me. Not in my body, and damned well not in my heart.

If I threw out my hand to the other side of the bed, my fingers would just brush the neck of my guitar, taking up a fraction of the space beside me that should be occupied by someone else. 

I’ve never wanted for willing bodies in my bed. Just walk down the street and I can have my pick, it’s that simple. I’m a rock star - I get my chicks for free.

Problem is, the person I want next to me in this damned bed is clear across the continent, thousands of miles away both mentally and physically, working on something that has nothing to do with us or me.

Yes, I’m selfish. Nothing I haven’t heard ten thousand times before. But dammit, he’s _mine_. He’s my guitarist, my right hand, my best friend, my partner. Too damned close to being my everything.

I roll my shoulder, digging the whatever-the-hell-it-is a little deeper into muscle and skin. A little more pain, and it doesn’t matter a damned bit, because all I can feel is the empty space beside me.

END

**Author's Note:**

> *‘chicks for free’ - Swiped a line from Dire Strait’s ‘Money For Nothing.’


End file.
